


The Games We Play

by Lunamionny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (a bit), (and/or Forbidden lust), F/M, Fingerfucking, Forbidden Love, Infidelity, It's just all a bit rude, Power Play, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunamionny/pseuds/Lunamionny
Summary: This is what it means to be in lust with Narcissa Malfoy: he’s constantly swinging on a pendulum from venerating - almost worshiping her, for fuck's sake - to wanting to claim her. Own her. Theo has done both, multiple times, a willing participant in her game of power play, frantically trying to work out the rules as he goes along and failing spectacularly.
Relationships: Narcissa Black Malfoy/Theodore Nott
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	The Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightChardonnay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightChardonnay/gifts), [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/gifts).



> A gift to MidnightChardonny - thank you for all you hard work with The Fairest of the Rare FB group! This was written for LoveFest2020 and her prompt was Theo/Narcissa (of *course* it was ;o)) - forbidden love. And for weestarmeggie - I'm so glad to gift you some smut in return for your own excellently hot writing - ha! - I can't wait to read more of your Tomione!  
> Thank you so much to NuclearNik for her excellent beta-ing help!

Theo can’t stop looking. He’s trying not to; he knows he can’t give himself - them - away. But she’s wearing a silk dress with a neckline that’s plunging so deliciously towards her breasts and draping so beautifully over her arse, showing the dips and curves of it in such a way that his hand is twitching to touch her. To feel the firm heat of her body underneath the thin, smooth silk as he strokes a hand up her thigh, gently, teasingly. But he also wants to bend her over the grand fucking piano that’s sat in the corner of the room and rip the dress from her body, hear the tear of the delicate fabric, expose her pale, flawless skin, skin the colour of milk... 

She often provokes such contrasting reactions in him. This is what it means to be in lust with Narcissa Malfoy: he’s constantly swinging on a pendulum from venerating - almost  _ worshiping  _ her, for fuck's sake - to wanting to claim her.  _ Own  _ her. Theo has done both, multiple times, a willing participant in her game of power play, frantically trying to work out the rules as he goes along and failing spectacularly. 

The midsummer ball is in full swing. The drawing room of the Parkinson’s home is crowded with the well-dressed, increasingly drunk elite of the wizarding world. Theo mingles, smiles politely and sips on champagne, trying not to think about Narcissa Malfoy’s teasing eyes, the provocative curve of her lips, her sweet, wet cunt. 

She’s been ignoring him for most of the evening, her gaze gliding over him whenever she surveys the room, whilst she lets her limp-dick of a husband fawn and paw at her all fucking evening. Lucius doesn’t give her what she wants - what she  _ needs -  _ though, Theo reminds himself in an effort at self-consolation. She's told him that often enough and he lets himself believe it. 

Finally, at five minutes past midnight, she returns his gaze, her eyes purposely meeting his before sliding subtly to the door and back again. A moment later, she places her drink down on a side table and calmly exits the room. Theo’s whole fucking _body_ is twitching now, he's that desperate to follow her, but he wills himself to stay, to wait at least a minute before nonchalantly sauntering to the door. 

The hallway beyond is still and empty. There’s no sign of Narcissa but Theo knows there are limited options as to where she could have gone. He makes his way to the small cloakroom near the main entrance. After a furtive glance to check no one is looking, he quietly opens the door and sneaks inside.

She’s waiting for him, her expression a familiar calm, collected mask that he wants to rip from her face if he could, and he quickly charms the door locked behind him. They look at each other for a split second before he steps forward - or rather,  _ lunges _ \- and crushes his lips to hers. It’s urgent and ruthless and hungry, the way they kiss. She moans into his mouth as he backs her up against the wall, pushing her against a cushion of mink, cashmere and dragon-leather coats.

He reaches down to grasp at her thigh, stroking along the silk like he’s been thinking about doing all evening. The feel of the solid heat of her is so much better than he imagined. His mouth moves to her neck, and she tilts her head to the side, welcoming his lips. He peppers firm kisses from her ear to her shoulder, and he can’t help but graze her with his teeth. 

“No marks... Don’t leave any marks,” she whispers, like she always does, and he has to summon all his willpower not to bite down into her soft, pale skin. He desperately wants to hear the noises she’d make if he was allowed to do that. 

He bends awkwardly, gathering the skirts of her dress so he can get underneath it. She helps him, pulling up the hem of her dress with one hand and clutching it at her hip, whilst the other cups his jaw possessively, guiding his mouth back to her lips. 

He strokes along bare skin now, up to the lining of her knickers then around, squeezing and pinching her arse, pulling a whimper from her, which in turn makes his cock harden more than it already has. He pushes it against her so she knows what she's doing to him, and she bites down on his lip. 

He pulls back from her and looks her up and down, taking his time as he does so, the sounds of their uneven breaths filling the room. She waits as he surveys her. She’s wearing pale blue knickers, the ones he likes. The ones she knows he likes. 

“Did you wear these for me?” he asks, his voice low and thick. 

She meets his gaze, her eyes hazy with lust, but her mouth set in a defiant line. “Yes,” she admits, as if it hurts her to say so. He can’t help how his lips curve up into a smile at this small yet sweet victory. He leans towards her again so his lips are at her ear and she lets out a moan as his fingers glide between her legs, along the satin of her knickers. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.” Although he whispers, his voice is hard. “Been thinking about how wet your cunt gets for me… and I was right, wasn’t I? You’re  _ soaking _ .” Theo’s fingers slide under the lining of her knickers, before pushing them aside. She gasps and buckles at the knees as he strokes along her lips. “Kept thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you. How I wanted to bend you over that piano, hitch your dress up, and screw you from behind.” He circles her clitoris with the exact speed and pressure he knows she likes. “Wanted to push you against the wall, have your legs wrapped around mine and  _ pound  _ you into that fucking wood panelling.” 

He slowly withdraws his fingers, hovering them inches from her and delights at her whimper of protest. He looks at her again - her clothing dishevelled and askew. He’s made Narcissa Malfoy’s poised demeanour come undone in a matter of seconds, and he knows by the way she’s looking at him that she has gladly let him do this to her. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice sultry. 

“You. I want you,” she whispers, looking at him with such piercing intensity it makes his cock ache. 

“What? What do you want me to do?” The stolen moments he has with her are so few; he needs to hear her say how much she wants him too.

“I want you...I want you to do all the things you just said.” 

She reaches out then, taking his hand and pulling it back between her legs. Feeling the wet heat of her once more makes him groan, and he leans down, kissing her neck again.  _ No marks, no fucking marks _ , his thoughts remind him mockingly.

A girl’s shrill laughter assaults the quiet of the cloakroom, and they both stiffen and still as they hear two people walk by outside, their muffled chatter reaching a crescendo as they stride past the door before fading away again. Theo knows they don't have much time, that people will start leaving soon and will need to come into this room and reclaim their coats. They don’t have time for sex, but he’s determined to make her come. 

“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers,” he whispers hoarsely in her ear. It comes out almost like a threat, but they both know it’s far from it. 

He starts to run his fingers from her entrance to her clit and back again in gentle, methodical strokes. She lets out a keening noise in acknowledgment as her eyelids flutter shut and her head lolls back, her breath coming in quiet, repeated whimpers. He loves it when he’s made her like this: wanton and drunk with his touch. 

He slips his fingers inside her and starts pounding her with them, curling them forwards, alternating that with circling and rubbing her clit. Her moans become louder, which prompts him to fuck her harder as her knees weaken and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, leaning all her weight on him. 

Theo tightens his jaw, focusing on the feel of her hot, tight cunt. He makes quick, repeated, almost frantic movements, relishing in how her body feels completely at the mercy of his touch. Her cunt makes obscene, wet noises in the quietness of the room and they mingle with her whimpering moans. He knows her body so well now, knows he could make her come almost immediately, but he slows down, dragging her want out for a bit longer. The musky, sweet smell of her cunt starts to fill the small space and he groans as he breathes it in.

She starts whispering his name over and over again and it feels like another victory, albeit a hollow one, because he’d never hear her say his name like this outside of the furtive, secret trysts they had. 

He can feel that she’s close to coming, feel her walls fluttering around his fingers and remembers with alarm that he didn't put a silencing charm on the door, and doesn’t know if she did. So he pushes the palm of his hand - the hand that isn’t fucking her - over her mouth as her whole body makes a succession of involuntarily shudders and trembles. He holds her gaze as his fingers push her over the edge, her eyes blown wide open. He can hear the passion in her cries, despite the fact that they’re smothered by his palm. 

When she quiets and her body stills, he takes his hand away from her mouth and wraps his arms around her shoulders as she continues to lean against him, catching her breath. He runs a hand over her back, unsure when he’ll be able to touch her again and so trying to feel as much of her as he can now. 

After a few moments, she pulls back from him. Her dress is still hitched awkwardly around her hips and, acting on an impulse, Theo takes out his wand, casts a diffindo, yanks her knickers away from her, and pockets them. 

She raises her eyes and her lips quirk up as if amused, as if she’s letting him win these points in whatever game they’re playing. He leans towards her, gently rearranging her dress, letting the skirt of it flow down to the floor once more. 

“I’m keeping them,” he whispers tauntingly in her ear. “They're ruined anyway. For the rest of the night, I’ll know you’re naked under this fucking dress and I’ve got your soaking knickers in my pocket. The knickers you ruined because of me.” She shudders at his words. 

“They’re yours,” she concedes gently, before bringing her lips to his. The kiss this time is warm and slow and deep. A goodbye kiss. She pulls back from him, preens at her hair and smoothes down her dress. This is when the power shifts again as Narcissa Malfoy regains her polished indifference. 

“I’ll go first. You follow in a minute,” she says. 

Theo nods and watches in silence as she leaves the room. 

She’s long stopped saying it’s going to be the last time. Neither of them would believe it anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and thoughts are cherished and treasured!


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